


You're The Closest To Heaven That I'll Ever Be

by bowlingfornerds



Series: All For One, and One For All [2]
Category: The 100
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Pregnancy, F/M, Giving Birth, Labour, Marriage, Pregnancy, Weddings, bellamy and clarke being domestic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-10 23:48:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4412693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bowlingfornerds/pseuds/bowlingfornerds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke has gone the full nine months with being pregnant, and it's just a waiting game now. Typical that Bellamy isn't around when she actually needs him. It's a good thing that Miller is, though.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A short story after Everybody's Looking For Something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're The Closest To Heaven That I'll Ever Be

**Author's Note:**

> I GUESS this could be a stand alone short story - but you really would benefit from the first story in the series, Everybody's Looking For Something. This continues after that, and there's probably some references to things you would know, had you read that first.
> 
> This is the first instalment of the short stories, but I might upload a story that takes place before this one, with the wedding or generally domestic-stuff. So, it could end up further down the line. I'll try and upload each story into it's actual place chronologically in the series, so just refer to there if you want to know.
> 
> Title from 'Iris' by the Goo Goo Dolls.
> 
> Enjoy.

Clarke wandered around the house, bored out of her mind. She was heavily pregnant and it was causing a strain on her back that she couldn’t fix by sitting down, nor by doing any of those stretches the doctor had drilled into her mind. Bellamy had just left the house, minutes before. He had to go to work even while she was on leave, so she had made sure to tell him once again that she thought they were having a girl before he left.

Bellamy had rolled his eyes. “I know a boy when I see one,” he replied, placing a kiss on her rounded stomach.

She wandered into the kitchen, glancing over the post-it notes that covered the fridge. Ever since they had announced Clarke’s pregnancy, their friends and family had been placing post-its with possible names on the fridge. Clarke looked over them again. Octavia had put down her name a good three times, and another five times with the masculine version – Octavian. Bellamy had added Augustus, but Clarke didn’t want that to be the name of their child.

If it was a boy, Emperor Augustus still had a sister called Octavia, not an Aunt. If anything, Augustus was Bellamy – though he just rolled his eyes when he brought it up. Amongst the names were many of Greek and Roman legends; Heracles making a couple appearances, as did Atlanta, Jason, and Perceus. But Clarke didn’t want to name her kid after some ancient hero, she wanted to name her kid after someone important. She just didn’t know who, yet.

She opened the fridge, rifling through the shelves and sighing when she came up empty handed. Then she shrugged, opening the freezer and pulling out the tub of ice cream. It was some double chocolate brownie flavour that she’d been craving for the past month and a half, and Bellamy had bought them in bulk. So what if it wasn’t even eight AM? It felt like an ice cream day to her.

Clarke fell onto the sofa, clawing the lid off the tub and digging her spoon straight in. The silence got overwhelming sometimes, and she found herself missing Bellamy when he was at work, and craving for human interaction. She glanced around for her phone, and waddled across the room to it on the kitchen counter.

Once back on the sofa, she scrolled through her contacts. She considered phoning Raven, but knew she would be at work. Octavia had early morning classes on Wednesdays, and Lincoln, her old roommate, usually scheduled training sessions in the morning. She sighed, Bellamy would be out of bounds because he was at work, and _you can’t phone me unless it’s an emergency, okay babe?_

She landed on Miller’s name though, and a small smile emerged on her face. Miller preferred to text, so she brought up their previous conversation, that would have been thousands of messages long, had her phone not run out of storage and forced her to delete them.

_Clarke: Bored. Please come over. Please?_

She received a reply about ten seconds later.

_Miller: whats in it for me_

_Clarke: I have ice cream._

The front door opened only ten minutes later, because he lived a road or two away, and Miller strolled in with a smile. He stopped off in the kitchen to fetch himself a spoon before joining her on the sofa.

“How did you know I didn’t have work today?” He asked, scooping the ice cream into his mouth. Clarke shrugged, shifting to get comfortable.

“Monty mentioned something about a lab spill,” she replied. “Assumed it would be closed for the day.” He nodded with a smile.

“Some idiot let out the test mice, and they proceeded to knock every bottle of toxic acids onto the floor one by one.” Clarke laughed and Miller grinned at her. “Burnt a hole through the ground.” Clarke’s eyes widened in surprise and her friend laughed.

“Well it’s nice to have you here,” she said with a smile.

“Already lonely?” He asked. She nodded.

“I have nothing to do. There’s all that baby stuff that I’m supposed to get done – but it’s all for someone who can actually do things. I can sit and barely stand and eat ice cream.” Miller rolled his eyes.

“The crib up yet?” She shook her head.

“Bell’s been really busy with the painting.” Miller nodded. “Crib’s next on the list.” He took another spoonful of ice cream.

“Come on,” he said, standing. Miller held a hand out for Clarke, and she took it reluctantly, letting her friend pull her onto her feet. She followed him up the stairs and into the baby’s soon-to-be bedroom. Bellamy had painted it a pale blue, and followed Clarke’s pencil markings precisely to paint the stars and the moon on the far wall, and the sun and clouds on the closest, with the door.

She landed heavily in the rocking chair they’d bought, unable to stand for too much longer, and took another bite of ice cream. She watched as Miller opened the box  that held the pieces to the crib and laid them out on the floor.

He fetched Bellamy’s tools from the hallway, and got to work on the crib, relaying the latest story of Monty and Jasper’s moonshine to her. She laughed where she was supposed to, and listened intently as he explained how they returned the dog, and fixed the dent in the car.

“And to think,” she smiled at the end. “You’re going to be marrying that guy.” Miller rolled his eyes with a smile.

“Don’t remind me. I feel like marrying Monty means I’m also marrying Jasper.” She laughed.

“That’s because you are.”

“At least he’s distracted by Maya most of the time.” Miller was better at the whole DIY stuff that Bellamy, and had the crib up in a short amount of time. He placed the sheet over the mattress, leaning against the wall, and put that in there with the blanket. Then, with barely a word, he moved onto the changing table, that still needed to be assembled.

“How’s wedding planning?” Clarke asked as Miller knelt on the floor again, his legs crossed underneath him as he counted out the screws.

“Difficult,” he replied. “How did you guys do it?”

“Well, we’d been planning it since before we got together, remember?” She grinned. Miller rolled his eyes.

“Where did you want this to go?” He asked. She pointed towards the corner nearest the window. “How did you figure out the guest list?” She shrugged.

“We wrote down the list of everyone we had ever met and crossed them off afterwards, based on how well we knew them.” Miller raised an eyebrow. When they were making the guest list, he and Monty had gone away for the weekend, claiming they didn’t want to be around when Bellamy and Clarke started arguing over how many people they could each have.

“Did you put your exes down?” He asked. Clarke nodded.

“For reference, mainly. Plus it felt pretty good to cross Finn off the list,” she paused in thought. “Actually, Bellamy crossed him off the list.With a marker pen.” Miller grinned as he glanced at her.

“And food?” He asked. She shrugged.

“Buffet was easiest. You don’t have to consider each individual person and wait for the servers to mess up,” she replied with a sigh. She was reaching the end of her ice cream. They talked like that for a while, going over ideas and answering each other’s questions. Miller was to get married in August, and it was May. But Monty liked a challenge and a time crunch.

“What are you doing for the honeymoon?” She asked, returning from throwing the tub in the bin, and the spoons into the sink. Miller slotted the changing table against the wall, and went to the box of baby supplies that Clarke and Bellamy had been stocking up on since January. (Yes, they probably owned enough nappies for three kids. But they wanted to be prepared.)

“I think we’re going skiing,” he replied.

“You think?”

“Well, Monty wants to go skiing, and I told him I would book the flights as soon as he was definite where, but he can’t decide.” Clarke grinned. For her honeymoon, she and Bellamy had gone to the Bahamas, mainly because they both loved the heat (despite how sunburnt Clarke got). Miller and Monty had joined them after the first week, and then they all spent the second week together.

“Can you even ski?” She asked, picking up the mobile and sliding it out from the box. She attached it the end of the crib, smiling as the stars spun.

“Sort of. Monty can do it pretty well – but there was a ski trip in year ten, and I learnt then,” he replied. _Ah, year ten,_ Clarke smiled. She was back in Polis with Maya, not knowing that she would meet her two best friends in less than a year and put condoms on her teacher’s desk. “Have you looked at the email I sent?” He asked next. Clarke nodded.

“Yeah, Bell is just making sure Octavia’s free for the week to babysit.” Miller nodded. Clarke didn’t know how she’d manage to spend a week skiing, and leaving her kid back in Ground, but she tried not to think about it.

“Great. If you guys miss it, I’ll probably get into a mood and Monty will divorce me.” Clarke laughed, looking over to where he was filled the draw of the changing table with nappies.

“Won’t that be a shame,” she smiled. “Then you’ll have to get married to someone else, and have another honeymoon.” Miller rolled his eyes, glancing at his phone for the time.

“You want to get some lunch?” He asked and she nodded. Clarke fully understood that she’d spent the last four hours eating ice cream (okay, three tubs) with Miller, but she was still hungry. She winced a little in pain as the baby’s foot kicked out and Miller smiled sympathetically before giving her a hug. Clarke sighed into his arms with a smile, wrapping her arms as far around him as she could reach. She preferred tight hugs, but she hadn’t had a lot of those since her stomach got larger. She felt Miller kiss the top of her head before leading her out of the baby’s room and down the stairs.

In the kitchen, Clarke leant against the counter, watching Miller pull out the bread and butter. But she gritted her teeth when she felt the wetness between her legs. She couldn’t tell if she’d peed herself or if it was something else, and she held her breath for a moment, glancing down at the floor. It was a little wet, and must have made a sound, but Miller hadn’t noticed. But Clarke saw, and she became definite.

“Mill,” she said slowly. He hummed in response. “Mill, my water just broke.” Her best friend paused, before turning to her slowly. Then he glanced at the floor and wrinkled his nose up.

“That’s gross,” he told her. She rolled her eyes, stepping away from the small puddle on the floor and moving to the sink. She used a dish cloth and dropped it onto the floor, moving it around with her foot to clean it up. Miller watched in awe and horror, not sure what to do. Clarke smiled inwardly at the thought of him being a gay man and not ever having to deal with this.

That was when she had her first contraction. It was side-splitting and she gripped the counter as it came. Miller moved suddenly and she felt him clutching at her, holding her up as she rode through the pain. It was gone after a few seconds but left her breathing deeply, staring at Miller with large worried eyes.

“Do I take you to the hospital?” He asked. She shook her head.

“Not until they’re four minutes apart,” she replied. Miller nodded, checking the time on his phone and putting the butter back in the fridge. She guessed he’d lost his appetite. Gingerly, he picked up the cloth she’d used to wipe up the floor between two fingers, and held it away from him as he wandered into another room to dump it in the washing machine. Clarke grinned at this, and then at him washing his hand when he returned.

Her next contraction came a few minutes later, and she gripped his hand throughout, as they sat on the sofa. He asked if he should call Bellamy and she shook her head.

“No, we don’t know how long it’ll be until the contractions get to four minutes,” she replied, her breathing laboured. “He’s got lessons all afternoon. We’ll wait.” Miller nodded, albeit unsurely. And she told him where the bag was to take with them to the hospital, and he placed it by the door for her. They sat, talking about nothing, as he timed the moments in between the contractions, and she squeezed his hand too tightly when they arrived.

“That’s it,” he said eventually. “Three minutes and fifty seconds. I’m taking you to the hospital.” Clarke nodded grimly, and let her friend pull her up and lead her out to his car. He dumped the bag in the back seat and helped her with her seatbelt.

“You drove here?” She asked, and he nodded. “You live like a minute and a half away.” He shrugged, pulling out onto the road.

“I’m lazy,” he replied. She had two contractions when she was in the car, and it took until she was in a hospital bed in the uncomfortable papery hospital dress before Miller phoned her husband.

“Bell,” he said, the moment he picked up. Clarke watched him. She could hear Bellamy on the other end as Miller turned the phone onto speaker.

“What is it?” He asked. “I’m teaching a class.” His voice sounded like he was hissing it, and Clarke could hear his students in the background.

“Bell, Clarke’s in hospital.”

“What?” Came the immediate response. “Why?”

“She’s in labour.”

“Shit, fuck,” he replied. She heard his class laugh. “Why didn’t you phone me sooner.”

“You don’t argue with a woman in contractions,” Miller explained with a shrug. Clarke winced, reaching blindly for his hand as she gasped at the pain. “Clarke,” Miller said, gripping her hand tightly, the anchor she needed. “You’re okay.”

“What’s happening?” Bellamy could be heard through the phone.

“Contraction,” Miller replied. There was shuffling on Bellamy’s side of the conversation, and his voice away from the phone.

“I’m going to call in a cover teacher,” he seemed to be telling his class. “Clarke’s gone into labour.” There was a sudden sound of murmuring and Clarke held onto that noise, and her husband’s breathing and voice as he told another teacher he was leaving. The pain ebbed away and she sighed.

“Bell?” She asked weakly, and Miller brought the phone closer to her.

“Princess?” He replied, a little hopefully.

“I love you,” she said with a weak smile.

“I love you, too. Don’t have that baby before I get there.”

“I’ll try.” Clarke smiled, turning her head away from the phone.

It was only an hour later when she was pushing violently, unimaginable pain racking her body. Bellamy’s hand was gripped tightly in hers, turning blue. He kept quiet about the pain though, telling her he loved her, that she was doing a good job, that she was almost there. It was a massive relief when she heard the crying.

Her eyes widened and watched in awe and wonder as a small body was held up before her, red and sticky and very much crying. She cried alongside the child, as Bellamy kissed her temple, her cheek, her forehead, her mouth. The baby was placed in her arms.

“This is your baby boy,” the nurse told her. Clarke grinned down at the child, tears still trailing down her face.

“I told you so,” Bellamy whispered in her ear, before kissing her forehead again. She laughed. She couldn’t comprehend anything anymore.

 

Not long later, the baby boy was placed in her arms again, properly cleaned and quiet, eyes shut, sleeping. Bellamy lied in the bed with her, kissing at her shoulder and her temple at random intervals. He took the child from her arms as she drifted off to sleep.

 

When she awoke, Miller was in the room with her. He said that Monty and all of the others were outside. Abby and Marcus were on their way from Ark. Octavia was pacing nervously out in the waiting room, and had rolled her eyes when Miller was allowed in but not her. Clarke had grinned at that.

Bellamy placed his son in Miller’s arms, and Clarke watched her best friend’s face light up.

“What are you calling him?” He asked softly, not even sparing a glance for the tired couple on the bed. Clarke and Bellamy had talked a lot about it, in the moments afterwards, and it was surprising that they’d come to an agreement so easily.

“His middle name is Jake,” Bellamy told his best friend with a smile. And Miller nodded. Jake for Clarke’s father. She thought back to the post-it notes. The name they chose hadn’t been suggested, but was so obvious when they looked at the child.

“His name is Nathan,” she smiled. Only now did Miller look up from the child in his arms, his mouth curving up into a grin.

“He’s so going to like me,” is all he said. Clarke grinned. He didn’t need to say anything else.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> I love all kudos and comments, not critical but I tend to squeal when receiving them. Remember that you can bookmark the story and subscribe to the series this is in, and you'll get emails whenever I write more!
> 
> Thanks!


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